


Never Have I Ever

by RosalindInPants



Series: May Drabbles [3]
Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: Dirty Jokes, Drinking, Drinking Games, F/M, M/M, Sexual Humor, asexual Glain, dominant Khalila, open relationships for everyone, submissive Dario
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:48:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24169876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosalindInPants/pseuds/RosalindInPants
Summary: The whole pack has gotten together for drinks at Khalila and Dario's house. They decide to play a drinking game.Somehow, Dario's adventurous sex life just keeps coming up. There may be a few things he's neglected to tell Khalila about...(Set several years post-canon. Everyone is an adult and responsible enough to make their own questionable decisions.)
Relationships: Dario Santiago/Everyone, Dario Santiago/Khalila Seif, Jess Brightwell/Thomas Schreiber, Niccolo Santi/Christopher Wolfe
Series: May Drabbles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725844
Comments: 21
Kudos: 3
Collections: Volume Two - May Event for The Great Library





	1. May 17th: Serapeum and Dagger

Khalila accepted the drink that Dario handed her. Not alcohol, like the others, but a concoction of citrus juices, pomegranate syrup, and sparkling water that looked like a sunset in her clear crystal glass. Despite his state of intoxication, the only flaw in its presentation was a small smudge of pomegranate syrup on the rim of the glass. She was in a generous mood; she would let it slide.

Besides, it was her turn, and the others were waiting, having already accepted their own drinks. While Dario took his place on his cushion at her feet, Khalila said, “Never have I ever wielded a jeweled weapon.”

That was true, technically. Her Archivist’s scepter was not a weapon, and the sword Dario had given her wasn’t jeweled. Only gold.

Grinning up at her, Dario took a sip of his wine. He knew perfectly well that she’d meant this one for him, with his collection of sparkling weapons, and she was proud to see him obey his orders and take only a small sip. She’d known Nic would drink as well - his formal uniform included a jeweled sword. 

Glain had been less of a certainty, but sure enough, she took a swig of her dark ale. Equally uncertain was Christopher - intoxicated enough to allow the use of his given name, though not yet drunk enough to shorten it - but after a nudge from Nic, he drank, muttering, “Yes, that one did have jewels on it, didn’t it?”

Thomas took them all by surprise. He took a deep gulp of his beer and answered their incredulous stares by saying, “Of course I have! They were my invention!”

“The Ray of Apollo is _not_ ,” Christopher punctuated the word with a wave of his wineglass that almost spilled the dark liquid, “a jeweled weapon.”

“Yes, it is,” Thomas argued. “It uses a very big jewel.”

Jess, sprawled across Thomas’s lap, patted his boyfriend’s beard. “Thomas, love, there’s a difference between a jeweled weapon and a weapon that uses crystals as an integral component.”

Thomas frowned, considering. “Crystals. Yes, it could be crystals of any sort. But the ones we used on the dragon…”

Christopher looked ready to mount a counterargument, and Khalila could see things rapidly deteriorating from there. Fortunately, Dario interrupted, “Trust me, Thomas, by the time you’re done with them, they don’t count as jewels anymore.” He leaned his head into Khalila’s hand as she rewarded him with a gentle pull of his curls. “Alvaro’s still sore about his favorite ruby. Anyway, Jess, really, _you_ should be drinking.”

Turning to face Dario, Jess raised an eyebrow and asked, “Does _that_ really count?”

“You were _definitely_ wielding that dagger. I remember that part very clearly,” Dario said in the satisfied tone that meant he was talking about one of his sexual encounters. Khalila suspected she knew which.

Jess shrugged and sipped his beer. “Fair enough. Your turn, Glain.”

Looking between Jess and Dario, then up to Khalila with a wicked grin, Glain said, “Never have I ever had sex in the Serapeum.” A sign of intoxication there, Khalila noted. Glain wouldn’t raise this particular topic sober, but she found her friends’ sex lives highly entertaining after a few drinks.

Jess and Dario both drank immediately, of course, and Jess burst out laughing. Khalila now knew _exactly_ which encounter Jess and Dario had in mind. A fantasy of Dario’s they’d played out recently.

“You really did it,” Glain said between gasps of laughter. “The dagger… the Serapeum… _at the same time_.”

“In the Serapeum? Really? Didn’t even think of the books, did you,” grumbled Christopher, who had quietly taken his drink with Nic while everyone’s attention was on Jess and Dario.

“Questionable judgment even for the two of you,” Nic concurred, doing his best to look stern, though his lips kept twitching upward.

“He didn’t _cut_ me,” Dario protested, earning a warning tap from Khalila that shut him up. There was such a thing as sharing too much.

Jess, not similarly constrained, added, “Just threatened him a bit, like the sexy thief I am.” He winked at Dario, completely unashamed. “Oh, but, Thomas, love, did you drink yet?”

Turning bright red, Thomas stammered, “B-But that does not count! We had our clothes on! You only used your hand!”

“Was the hand inside or outside the clothes? Did either of you come?” Dario asked, leaning forward until Khalila tugged him back.

“Irrelevant,” Christopher said. “Did you experience sexual gratification? If you experienced sexual gratification, it counts.”

Blushing even redder, Thomas drank.

Glain looked away from that spectacle toward Khalila. “And what about you, Archivist?”

Khalila’s cheeks grew warm, and only her darker tone kept her from turning as red as Thomas. She’d forgotten her drink because Jess and Dario were so distracting, that was all. She certainly wasn’t trying to get out of drinking. Hers, after all, was a perfectly safe drink. No alcohol in it at all. Just bitter, sour lemon extract, more in this round than the last, because the game had to be fair. It might not be so bad yet. The last one had been pleasant enough after a few sips.

Everyone’s eyes were on her. With all the dignity of her position, Khalila brought her pretty crystal glass to her mouth and drank. Her lips puckered.


	2. May 18th: Iron Tower and Rope

Dario had the next turn, and he used it to avenge the insult to his lady like the noble prince he was. Looking straight at Glain, he said, “Never have I ever entered someone’s office without knocking.”

Very precise wording there. Dario had barged into his share of rooms, but none of them had been offices. Glain, on the other hand…

With a sharp bark of laughter, Glain raised her mug and drank. “Got me there, your highness. And believe me, I will never make that mistake again. Or touch Khalila’s desk.” She scrunched up her face in exaggerated disgust.

“Nor will I,” Christopher agreed, toasting her with his own glass. “I would, by the way, highly recommend adding the Lord Commander’s desk and the Obscurist Magnus’s desk to the list of untouchable furnishings.”

_The Obscurist Magnus? Oh, Allah, please let him not have walked in on…_

“Well, that’s poetic justice, considering what _I’ve_ walked in on,” Jess muttered after he’d taken his drink. “Who’d you find Eskander with? Pyotr?”

A reasonable guess, considering how friendly the two Obscurists had become, but no, Khalila had a sinking feeling that she knew exactly who Christopher had seen on his father's desk.

“I think it’s very nice that Eskander is finding love again,” Thomas said. His beer remained untouched.

“Love had nothing to do with _that_ ,” Christopher said, looking pointedly at Dario.

Khalila pulled Dario’s head against her knees with a hand at his throat and bent to whisper sweetly in his ear, “Did you forget to tell me anything about your afternoon with Eskander, darling?”

A delicious little shiver ran through him, and he nodded.

“We will discuss this later,” she whispered, already looking forward to spending the remainder of the evening watching him sweat. Plenty of time to consider his punishment.

“But _Eskander_?” Jess asked. “How did that even happen?”

Dario wanted to answer. Khalila could feel the bob of his throat as he swallowed, fighting the urge to speak. So well behaved now.

She answered on his behalf, “We were curious about a rope technique unique to the Iron Tower. I sent Dario to inquire about it, and Eskander offered to give the lesson himself. Dario has apologized adequately for his indiscretion, I hope, Christopher?”

A slow smile spread across Christopher’s face. “Oh, yes, I would say so. Wouldn’t you agree, Dario?”

Dario gulped. Thinking through Dario’s schedule of appointments for the past few weeks, Khalila had a creeping suspicion that she knew why.

Jess’s brows drew together for a moment, then he looked from Dario to Christopher with wide eyes. “You mean that was…?”

Christopher’s grin widened.


	3. May 19th: Jess and Anit's Bookstore and Pipe

It was Christopher’s turn, and with everyone’s curious eyes on him, it was no surprise that he looked right back at Jess and said, “Never have I ever left a naked man cuffed to a pipe in my bathroom.” With a smug smile, he sat back, his glass untouched.

Laughter erupted from Glain, Thomas, and Nic. Khalila laughed with them, glad not to have to drink - she’d never cuffed Dario to a pipe in _her_ bathroom. Jess and Anit’s bookstore bathroom, on the other hand, had an exposed pipe at the perfect height to cuff a princeling to when he needed to be reminded of his place. Which explained Christopher's satisfaction and Dario's rigid posture.

Jess drank and buried his head in his hands. “You. You’re the one he gave the bookstore key to.” Peeking between his fingers at Khalila he added, “Please don’t be angry. I should have asked who I was leaving him there for.”

She smiled at him while pressing her nails into Dario’s throat. “You're not the one I’m angry with. In fact, I would say he owes you an apology, too. Don’t you, my spoiled prince?”

Very carefully, with his pulse racing against Khalila’s hand, Dario nodded.

“Choose a time and message me,” she told Jess. “I’ll send him over to make amends.”

“And that is more than I needed to know,” Glain said, lowering her mug.

Occupied with thoughts of Jess and Dario, Khalila almost missed the foam on Glain’s lips.

Thomas proved far more observant. “Glain,” he said slowly, “How would you have had a naked man cuffed in your bathroom?”

Glain sat up straighter, grinning with the gleam in her eyes that meant a good battle story was coming. “So, you all remember that conference in Tripoli last month?”

Nods all around. Wolfe, Thomas and Jess had all attended, along with the Artifex Magnus and the Litterae Magnus, with Glain’s company on guard duty. There’d been a few disturbances from the usual factions of malcontents, but Glain’s company had kept it all under control.

“So the one night, I’m off duty and heading back to my room with Phoena, and all of a sudden, here comes this guy, drunk as a skunk, running buck naked down the hall yelling about Burners taking over the Library, all that rubbish. We take him down easy enough, but then what are we supposed to do with him? Can’t go hauling him through the Serapeum like that, not with a conference going on. Can’t be shocking all the Scholars,” she said, with a wink at Dario.

At that, Nic snorted, and Christopher, scowling with visible effort, elbowed him in the ribs. By the blush on Thomas’s face, he, at least, might actually have found the sight shocking.

“So you put him in your bathroom?” Jess asked.

Glain shrugged and took a swig of ale. “Sure. We were just about to my room, anyway. Dragged his drunk ass in and cuffed him to a pipe in the bathroom so if he hurled, at least it would be an easy cleanup. I won the coin toss, so I got to go for the captain, Phoena got stuck on drunk watch.”

Snickering, Nic said, “Well done, lieutenant.”

“You used my coin?” Jess asked.

Looking like the cat that caught the canary, Glain took a coin from her pocket and held it between two fingers. Very slowly, she turned it to reveal that both sides were heads. “Turns out there’s some benefit to associating with criminals after all.”


	4. May 20th: Chris and Nic’s House and Candlestick

Nic had the next turn. Looking perfectly relaxed on the couch with his arm around Christopher, he said, “Never have I ever cheated at cards.”

Trying to steer the conversation in a safer direction, Khalila thought, at least until she saw the glare that Christopher shot at his partner.

“Sanctimonious bastard,” Christopher muttered after he’d taken his drink.

“No, you’re the bastard,” Nic replied cheerfully.

Christopher responded with a rude gesture.

Jess, Dario, and Glain all drank, and Khalila was forced to join them.

“I thought better of you, Khalila,” Thomas said with a wounded look. Easy for him to say, natural genius at games that he was.

“I was playing Anit,” Khalila protested. “She would take offense if I played honestly!”

“I’m more surprised Nic hasn’t,” Glain said.

Christopher rolled his eyes. “The way he bluffs, he doesn’t need to cheat any more than Thomas does.”

“All I do is recognize patterns and calculate probability. Anyone could do it,” Thomas said. “Anyway, it is my turn, is it not? I have thought of a good one this time.”

With Khalila so focused on his behavior, Dario was too polite to groan, but Khalila could tell he was fighting the impulse. The looks on Christopher and Nic’s faces suggested the same. Thomas’s idea of a “good one” could be… interesting…

Glain, prone to bluntness even when she wasn’t on her fifth beer, asked, “Do I even want to know?”

Thomas’s face lit up with a smile. “I have thought of the one place in Alexandria that Dario cannot possibly have had one of his adventures.” He cleared his throat for dramatic effect. “Never have I ever been fucked in Chris and Nic’s guest room.”

The logic of it was surprisingly solid, considering that Thomas was drunk enough to use profanity. Christopher and Nic’s guest room was open to any of their former students, but the bed there was rather small. It was a place of refuge, not a love nest, as Christopher had made abundantly clear to all of them when offering the use of it. With Dario's tendency to get lonely while Khalila traveled and the occasional need for space when they disagreed, Dario had been one of that guest room's more frequent occupants, but he'd behaved himself while there. He did sometimes go to Nic and Christopher's house to play, but those activities took place in the master bedroom, if a bed was used at all.

Christopher and Nic both drank, chuckling as they tapped their glasses together.

“It used to be my office,” Christopher said to their dropped jaws and grimaces. “I think we’ve already established the suitability of desks as surfaces for such purposes.”

“Anyway, we had to test the bed somehow,” Nic added with a twinkle in his eye. “Needed to make sure it was good and sturdy.”

“The test results were very satisfactory,” Christopher continued for him. “There is absolutely no danger that it will collapse under any of you children when you stay over.”

“If only because we’ll never sleep in it again,” Glain groaned.

“I’m sure they washed the sheets!” Thomas protested. “You sleep in hotels, don’t you?”

Before Khalila could contribute to that argument, she noticed Dario moving. Slowly lifting his wineglass to his lips. His throat pulsed as he swallowed a far larger quantity than he was permitted, and Khalila saw redness in his cheeks that had nothing to do with the wine.

Christopher turned sharply to Nic, giving his partner the look of scrutiny they’d all learned to fear. With a gesture toward Dario, he snapped, “Niccolo! We have rules about these things!”

Nic met the look with a shrug. “Wasn’t me.”

“Well it certainly wasn’t me,” Christopher replied. “And he hasn’t brought any extra guests along.”

Dario straightened, squaring his shoulders as he worked up the courage to confess. Khalila leaned forward, not yet touching him, but very curious to hear how deep of a hole he was about to dig himself.

“It was me,” Dario said in a tone Khalila had learned to recognize as false bravado. The others probably thought he was very proud of himself, but she could feel the quiver of his back against her shin. “The last time I stayed over. I was drunk, I was aroused, I was alone, I fucked myself.”

 _In more ways than one_. That would have been when they’d fought over a question of scheduling, not so long ago. As usual, a night apart had cleared both their heads. But apparently there were things Dario had neglected to report.

“I don’t recall you asking to take a toy along,” Khalila pointed out, just a hint of warning in her voice. That alone was enough to make him tense. Good. He knew better than to use toys without permission.

“That is because I did not take one, my queen,” Dario said, very quietly.

Christopher half rose from his seat, a rather frightening look on his face. “If you appropriated one of ours, Santiago….”

A shiver ran down Dario’s spine, and he waved both hands in front of himself in a placating gesture, leaving his wineglass on the floor. Khalila listened with growing horror as he explained. “No, no, I promise, I wouldn’t! I… ah… there was this candlestick on the shelf in the corner. Very dusty, didn’t look like you ever used it… I promise, I washed it very well when I was finished!”

 _Oh, Allah, what has he done?_ Khalila feared she was about to watch her husband being beaten to a pulp, and she wasn’t entirely certain that she ought to intervene on his behalf. She couldn’t imagine how she would feel to learn a guest in her home had so abused one of her possessions. _Allah help us, what if they've touched it since then?_

With an unreadable expression, Christopher sat back down. He picked up his glass, downed the contents, exchanged a look with Nic, and burst out laughing.

That was his real laugh. Not the cruel, mocking laugh Dario deserved, but real laughter. After a breathless moment in which his former students all exchanged confused and worried glances, Christopher said to Nic, “I told you that thing looked like a dildo.”

Nic shook his head and finished off his own glass. “I keep telling you, Uncle Luciano was a priest. He wouldn’t have thought of it that way. It’s good Venetian glass.” He didn’t sound angry, _alhamdulillah_. More exasperated. This sounded like another of his long-running debates with Christopher, now settled by Dario’s idiocy.

“It’s garbage now,” Christopher said, quite firmly. “First thing when we get home. Straight into the trash.” By his tone, he’d wanted the thing gone for some time.

“Leave it to Dario to fuck himself with something pretty,” Jess said. “And fuck other people’s things up in the process.”

“I washed it! I scrubbed-” Three fingers thrust into his mouth silenced Dario’s protests. He mouthed at Khalila’s hand apologetically, but rather than take pity on him, she seized the back of his neck with her other hand, digging her nails in. Enough to make him uncomfortable, though not nearly so uncomfortable as he deserved to be. The nerve of him, to treat Nic and Christopher that way when they’d done so much for him.

“Shall I list all of the ways that you have transgressed, my prince?” Khalila cooed in her husband’s ear.

Sucking harder on her fingers, he shook his head.

“We will have a great deal to talk about later,” she whispered. She wouldn’t punish him now, not in front of the others. That was a thing that would have to be negotiated, and whatever her indignant anger might have to say on the matter, now was not the time. Releasing him, she said, more loudly, “It looks like Christopher and Nic are in need of refills, darling.”

He jumped to his feet and bowed with perfect form as he said, “Yes, my lady.” Turning to the others, he asked, “May I top anyone else off while I’m in the kitchen?”

Khalila lifted his nearly full glass and held it out to him. “Dispose of this and pour yourself some water. You clearly don’t need any more to drink.”

Much as he hated to pour out good wine, Dario took the glass with another obedient bow and went to collect the others’ glassware on a tray. She waited until he was nearly to the kitchen to add. “Oh, and Dario, dear? Bring me the lemon extract.”


	5. May 21st: Alexander’s Tomb and Gun

Dario wouldn’t meet Khalila’s eyes when he returned with the drinks. Good. He should be ashamed after a confession like that. He’d also chosen a very plain glass for his water, and he knelt on the floor rather than his cushion to offer her the tray containing the water and the little bottle of lemon extract.

Khalila appreciated the sign of humility, but that didn’t mean she would take pity on him. Nor could she be excessively harsh, though, not with Thomas present. The others would all understand - even Glain, who thought Dario could only benefit from discipline regardless of the form it took - but Thomas never wanted to see anyone hurt, even when the person in question had fully consented to it in advance.

Fully aware that they were being watched, Khalila picked up the lemon extract. “Is this all we have?” she asked in a whisper only Dario would hear.

She saw his eyes widen in understanding. “No, my lady. There is another bottle in the cabinet.”

“Good boy,” she said, tenderly caressing his cheek. He deserved a little encouragement for his current obedience, even as she punished him for past misdeeds. She let her fingers trail over his smooth-shaven jaw and across his pretty lips, lifting her hand away as his tongue poked out in response to her touch. Then she uncapped the little bottle and emptied it into Dario’s glass.

The clear liquid dispersed invisibly into the water. Only she and Dario would know that the bottle had been nearly full. “You’ll drink deeply from now on, darling,” she said, loudly enough for the others to hear. The right people would catch on to that hint, she hoped.

Jess certainly did. It was his turn, and he looked at Dario with absolute glee as he said, “Never have I ever used High Garda weapons for unauthorized purposes.”

That was an obvious drink for Dario. He took his drink quickly and without complaint, though he couldn’t keep his face from pinching into a decidedly unattractive expression at the taste. Khalila found that quite satisfying to watch as she took a sip of her own drink. She had, after all, made use of High Garda equipment to indulge Dario’s desires. The bitter taste went down much more easily with the knowledge that she was inflicting worse on her husband.

As it turned out, they all drank for that one. Jess took a deep gulp of beer, apparently more than happy to pay the price to make Dario drink. Nic and Christopher, well, of course they’d misused equipment. In over twenty years, how could they not have?

Thomas was more of a surprise. As was Glain. As they lowered their mugs, Thomas shook with laughter, and Glain broke into a wide grin.

“All right, what did you two do?” Nic asked.

“It was Katja’s fault,” Thomas said between drunken giggles. “She said that Garda rifles are inferior.”

“So we borrowed a rifle, Thomas fitted it with a prototype scope, and we defended the honor of the High Garda, sir,” Glain said with a mocking salute in Nic’s direction.

“You won’t report us, will you, sir?” Thomas asked Nic, looking suddenly worried.

Christopher snorted. “Report you to whom? The Archivist is sitting right there!”

“Anyway, that’s not bad at all compared to the things  _ some people _ have done with High Garda weapons,” Nic said, giving a very significant look to Dario.

Dario took the barb without comment, apparently determined to be on his best behavior now. 

But, no, that was too well behaved. Khalila hadn’t forbidden him from speaking, after all. Mentally, she raced through the possible implications of Nic's words, then said, “Never have I ever performed oral sex on a weapon.”

It was a fantasy of Dario’s, one she’d refused to let him indulge because of the risks, and they’d discussed it again only recently in preparation for his most recent dalliance with Nic. Khalila had agreed to almost the entirety of his eroticization of his ill-advised adventure in Alexander’s Tomb with Jess. She’d given him permission to sneak past her loyal guards, get “caught” by Nic, and be “forced” to provide sexual favors in exchange for his freedom. But she’d drawn the line at the use of a gun.

Sure enough, Dario tensed. “May I request clarification of what is considered a weapon for this question, my lady?”

“It’s not a hard word to define,” Glain said, rolling her eyes. “What did you do, suck off an automaton?”

“They aren’t built with those parts!” Thomas protested. “Even Dario cannot suck a cock that is not there!”

“He could lick one between the legs. Pretend it’s a very flat vulva?” Jess suggested.

“Jess,” Thomas said with a sigh, “If I didn’t know for a fact that you had seen Morgan’s…”

“That wasn’t what I meant!” Dario interrupted. “Not an automaton. A training weapon.”

Nic, his drink untouched, added, “More specifically, a dummy weapon. Solid wood, carved in the shape of a gun. Used for disarming drills.” He indicated the shape and size with broad gestures as he spoke, an Italian mannerism that he displayed far more often in private than in public, and even more often when intoxicated.

The pieces came together in Khalila’s mind, and she threaded her fingers into Dario’s hair. Not pulling, but threatening. “My dear husband,” she said in a voice like poisoned sugar, “is there anything you’ve forgotten to tell me about your nighttime visit to Alexander’s Tomb?”

Dario gulped. “It was, as Nic said, not a real gun?”

There was, perhaps, some merit to that argument. She might have approved it, had Dario suggested it to her beforehand. She might even have let him off easy if he’d reported it afterward. She was not so forgiving now. He knew the rules.

“Oh, it’s real enough that you should have reported it,” Khalila said. “Now drink.”

She kept her hand very still in his hair while he drank, feeling the soft silk of it sliding over her skin. Only after he audibly swallowed did she close her hand, pulling him against her thigh by the hair. Leaning in very close, she whispered, “We just keep adding to the agenda for our discussion, don’t we?”

Again, Dario gulped.


	6. May 22nd: The Lighthouse and Wrench

Satisfied that Dario understood what he was in store for once their friends departed, Khalila sat back in her chair, pulling her legs back to deprive him entirely of contact. The sort of subtle punishment she could inflict right under everyone’s noses.

“If you two are done having your couple moment...” Glain said, wobbling a bit as she leaned back in her chair and rested her feet on the table. “It’s my turn. Never have I ever been distracted from a task by my libido.” She looked first at Dario, then at Khalila as she spoke.

Khalila felt heat rising to her cheeks.  _ Yes, fair enough, message received _ , she thought, and sipped her drink.

Dario took his gulp with dignity, and Nic, Christopher, and Jess all drank in turn.

And then Thomas, beet red, brought his mug to his lips and drank.

“You?” Glain asked, the front legs of her chair thumping to the floor as she leaned forward toward Thomas. “No way.”

“Impossible,” Christopher concurred.

Jess looked inquisitively up into his boyfriend’s scarlet face. “Thomas, love, when did that happen? I could swallow your cock while you’re working and you wouldn’t notice!”

Thomas took another deep drink of his beer. “It was Dario,” he said, slurring his words, “I’m sorry, Dario, I’m going to get you in trouble again.”

Not nearly as sure as she would like to be about which encounter Thomas had in mind, Khalila said, “You might not. He  _ might _ have had permission.” She looked down at Dario. “Did you, my prince?”

To Khalila’s great relief, Dario nodded and said, “Yes, my queen. It was when I brought his wrench back to the Lighthouse after he left it in your office. There were no unauthorized activities.”

That deserved a reward. He needed to be reminded that good things would come of honesty and obedience. Khalila kissed the top of Dario’s head and whispered, “Yes, you were so good for that, weren’t you?”

She could almost feel him puffing up at the praise. So sensitive, her prince was.

Jess, however, was considerably less impressed. Pouting up at Thomas, he asked, “How in Heron’s name did he pry you away from your work, love?”

“I was working on the dragon,” Thomas said, pausing for another sip of beer to fortify himself. “You know that part on the wing joint that is so hard to reach?”

“The one you’re always asking me to climb up and get, yes,” Jess said. 

Khalila was less certain, but she thought she could picture it. The dragon, curled around the top balcony of the Lighthouse, where it rested when not in use. Yes, there, where the wing met the body, would be the spot, too high up for even Thomas to reach easily.

“I needed to reach it, and Dario helped me,” Thomas said, looking down at his mug. He stammered out the next part all in a rush, “And he was very attractive while he was doing it! I could not resist! We… I... ” His voice dropped to an unintelligible mumble, but Khalila caught a few choice bits. “...against the dragon’s leg… cocks together… never even put down the wrench…”

“You’re leaving out the best part,” Dario said, leaning his head back against Khalila’s knees and rolling his eyes as if he were offering critique instead of coming to Thomas’s rescue. “He was  _ shirtless _ when I got there, and he asked me to climb up on his shoulders. I could hardly help reacting the way I did!” It was an appealing image in Khalila's mind, too, especially when she thought back on the details Dario had given when he'd told her the story in private.

“I am nothing exciting to look at,” Thomas stammered. “But you! In those trousers!” His blush deepened, and he took another drink.

Jess flopped dramatically back across Thomas’s lap, his head hanging upside down to look at Dario. “Please, please, forgive every time I have ever mocked you for your clothing, Dario, my dear friend. Please introduce me to your tailor?”

“It isn’t only the trousers, Scrubber. It’s the body you put in them,” Dario said, sounding very satisfied with himself. He turned his attention to Thomas. “On that note, Thomas, you were  _ very _ exciting to look at.  _ Especially _ after you got those horrid things you call trousers off.”

Glain threw a piece of shortbread from the long since abandoned dessert tray at Dario. “If you start rhapsodizing about his cock, I’ll throw my drink next.”

Khalila intercepted the missile. “Can’t let him get the taste out of his mouth that easily,” she stage-whispered to Glain.

“It is my lot in life to suffer,” Dario moaned with mock despair.

“Oh, that can be arranged,” Christopher said with a sadistic gleam in his eye. “Don’t you think, Nic?”

Nic wrapped an arm around Christopher’s shoulders and gave Dario a terrifyingly friendly smile. “Oh, yes, definitely. With his wife’s agreement, of course,” he said with a deferential nod toward Khalila.

Now that was a very intriguing idea, indeed.


	7. May 23rd: Archivist’s Office and Sword

There was no need to answer Nic and Christopher right away. It was Dario’s turn, and Khalila found herself quite curious how he would use it. Nudging his lovely bottom with the tip of her foot, she said, “Your turn, darling.”

He picked up his glass. “Never have I ever been so stupid,” he said, and he waited, looking up at her expectantly.

Clever. She could make him drink or she could tell him that this was the stupidest he’d ever been, but not both. But then, Dario had made a great many stupid decisions in his life, over matters of far greater import than his sexual conduct. “Drink, dear prince,” she said, icy cool. While she might admire his cunning, she couldn't let him think he was getting away with anything.

A little bow, and he drank. He was getting better at schooling his face back to a neutral expression after he'd swallowed.

Glain left her mug untouched, as did Thomas. Jess, however, drank, winking at Dario as he lowered his beer. The two of them were entirely too much alike in some ways.

On the couch, Nic and Christopher held a heated argument in whispered Italian, too quick and quiet for Khalila to comprehend. She really did need to get around to learning the language properly rather than relying on her fluency in related languages so much. Whatever they were saying, it involved a lot of emotive gesturing on Nic’s part and a lot of glaring on Christopher’s.

At last, they both drank.

“I am not going to discuss it,” Christopher said sharply. “As it is my turn, let us move on. Never have I ever been held at swordpoint by my lover.”

It was clearly intended for Nic, who drank, muttering, “Only because you were the one holding the sword.”

Khalila had to wonder if Christopher had known that Dario, too, would have to drink.

“Pissed her off that much, did you?” Glain asked while Dario grimaced and put down his nearly empty glass.

"It's his specialty, isn't it?" Jess said.

Dario answered with a gesture that earned him a sharp warning tap. Some degree of friendly hostility was to be expected in a drinking game, but there were limits.

Nic cleared his throat, looking right at Christopher. “Never have I ever held a naked man at swordpoint in the Archivist’s office.”

Glaring and holding a single finger in the air, Christopher drained his wineglass.

So that was what they’d done in there the night Khalila had granted them private access. She’d wondered - who wouldn’t? - but respected them both too much to inquire. But, of course, she should have guessed. She, after all, had done the same.

Bracing herself for the bitter taste and the inevitable teasing, Khalila took her drink. It had been worth it. Dario had been so beautiful there on his knees, stripped bare with the point of her sword at his throat. Such humility. Such trust. She would take him there again, she thought, after he’d served his punishment, and remind him of the bliss he found in submission.

Perhaps remembering that moment himself, Dario pressed himself back against Khalila’s legs, and she allowed it, letting her hand succumb to the allure of his curls.

“Please tell me you’ve had the rugs cleaned after all of this,” Glain groaned.

“Of course they have! There is a regular cleaning service in the Serapeum! ” Thomas said. He blanched, then blushed. “Oh, but the dragon! Dario, we forgot to clean the dragon after-”

“I need another drink,” Glain interrupted, rising from her seat. “I’m opening the whiskey. Who’s with me?”

Jess and Nic both raised their hands.

“Barbarians,” Christopher muttered. “I’ll finish the Rioja, then. Grab me the bottle while you’re up?”

“I’ll get it,” Thomas said, shifting Jess out of his lap so that he could get up and join Glain. “I need more beer.”

“We’re done with the game, then?” Khalila asked. She’d learned the hard way that it was necessary to impose limits of the potency of the drinks her friends consumed while playing drinking games. When the whiskey came out, the game had to end.

“Absolutely," Glain said, "I’d like to maintain my delusion that there might be somewhere in Alexandria that you idiots haven’t fucked.”

Dario might have responded to that, but Khalila’s fingers found his mouth first. While he lapped at them, she said, “Pour just a taste for Dario.”

He froze, even his mouth going still around Khalila’s fingers. Good boy. He knew to fear undeserved generosity.

Having Thomas and Glain both out of the room offered an opportunity that Khalila had no intention of wasting. Once she’d confirmed her plans with Jess, Nic, and Christopher for Dario to earn their forgiveness, she expected that her husband would be in dire need of that whiskey.

If he accepted his fate obediently enough, she might even permit him to drink it.


End file.
